To Be Fine All the Time Is Such A Heavy Burden
by Underworld's-Reject
Summary: Spoilers for S6 and some of S7. 7x2. Inspired by Bobby and Dean's conversation about everything that's going down and how Dean just repeatedly lies and says he's 'fine' when he clearly isn't. It's easier to lie than tell the truth when all you wanna do is just fall apart and throw in the towel.


Summary; Spoilers for S6 and some of S7. 7x2. Inspired by Bobby and Dean's conversation about everything that's going down and how Dean just repeatedly lies and says he's 'fine' when he clearly isn't. It's easier to lie than tell the truth when all you wanna do is just fall apart and throw in the towel.

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

**AN: Started watching S7 today, I've only watched the first six eps so far, so yeah. Cassie :'( Sad times for everybody really. Poor Sammy. Anyway, this is just a one shot. I don't really like it, and I'm not sure if it's entirely 'Dean'-y but whatever. This didn't go in the direction that I wanted. Unfortunately there is no slash or mentions of former Destiel- which was my intention. It didn't happen though, so whatever. It's pretty much all just musey stuff really. **

/

Dean stared down at his cup of coffee, his bright green eyes boring into the dark, rich depths of the liquid. He swallowed and shook his head slightly, leaning against the countertop. He ran a hand across his face, inhaling sharply and closing his eyes for a moment. Bobby had left him alone now, thankfully, but he was still fine. He was always fine. It was almost like his default setting. When things were going down or shit hit the fan, he was fine. When someone died, he was fine. He was fine when he'd come back from hell. He was fine when Sam didn't have a soul. He was fine when they'd found out Cas was working with Crowley, just like he had been about Castiel being God. Unbelievably pissed and disappointed, and kind of scared but_ fine_ anyway. Just like he was now, when Sam was tripping out and Castiel was dead. He was always fine. Always. Always had been, always would be.

Only…it was a lie. It wasn't that clear cut, it never was. Not only was it his 'default setting' but it was also his default lie, his defence mechanism, his way of coping. Except it didn't really help him cope. And yet, it was just easier to try and deceive those around him because it meant less questions. Less talking, less inevitable chick flicks. He wasn't fine right now, and he wasn't alright but that didn't matter. He had to pretend to be, for his own sake but most importantly…For Sam's. He was his elder brother and if he started freaking or breaking down, it wouldn't be long before Sam collapsed completely. It was his job to try and hold it together for him, to look after him, protect him. The last two of which he'd failed at. Sure, he'd got his brother his soul back and a wall in his head to protect him from the hellish memories, but he hadn't been able to protect him from Castiel; from the angel tearing down that Goddamn wall. Nor the aftermath. Like him, Sam had been bullshitting; saying he was fine when he totally wasn't. And Jesus Christ, he really _wasn't_. He was kind of insane, something beyond any of their control; even his. He was seeing Lucifer and hallucinating and sometimes having difficulty distinguishing between reality, apparently. No, Sam wasn't fine. Sammy was far from freaking fine and it was all his fault.

He was powerless, he couldn't help him and he couldn't protect him from this. He couldn't protect him from memories and hallucinations; things which he couldn't see, things which didn't have physical form- which meant he couldn't freaking _fight_ them. If he'd been better, or smarter, or less hesitant, they could've just stopped Castiel before he'd even had the chance to open purgatory and he could've saved Sam from all of this, maybe. So, all in all, this was all on him. Pretty much. He felt responsible, like he did for many things, because he hadn't kept his little brother safe. He'd known the risks but he'd blundered right in anyway and now…The consequences could just keep on getting worse. They were lucky Sam was even freaking standing. He didn't want to lose his brother, not by death or to mental illness. Together, they'd have to try and make it alright. They'd have to try and fix it. He'd have to try and make it okay for Sammy, somehow. At least he was alive, at the moment. That was the only positive to this situation; Sammy was alive.

Unlike someone else. Unlike the stupid angel of the Lord who hadn't listened to him, had royally fucked up and was the reason that Sam was in this mess. He still couldn't quite grasp the concept that Castiel was dead, despite the fact that the last few times he'd seen him he'd been crazy, soul charged God, and then a nice little outfit for all the Leviathans to wear. He thought he'd lost all faith and good feeling for Castiel but he'd been wrong. When the angel had shown up, covered in blood and claiming that he needed their help, he'd been surprising willing to assist him. He hadn't forgiven or forgotten and he was still mighty damn pissed even now, but at least it meant that _Cas _had still be in there amidst the crazy, power hungry monster and freaky, demented purgatory creatures. It had meant his best friend was still alive in there somewhere, capable of realising what was right or wrong and able to realise that it had all gone too far. His world further collapsed when Castiel had released the souls back into purgatory. He'd thought that had been it for the celestial there and then; no breathing, no pulse, ice cold. He could've sworn he was dead. It probably would've been better if he had died then. It probably would've been merciful, better for the angel and the world. As opposed to what had really happened; him waking up, and promptly been overtaken by the Leviathans. Only he hadn't been able to hold them all, the vessel was collapsing and he was being destroyed. The bastards had known that, and they'd manoeuvred him into a lake for when the inevitable had occurred- quickly dispersing via the water and spreading their poison _everywhere._ He hadn't even initially been able to comprehend the fact that Castiel was dead, until he'd seen the trench coat floating limply in the water. That ever present trench coat which was just _Cas _all over. It had always been Cas; right in the beginning when he was a dick, when he was falling, when he was briefly a human, when he was an angel again, when he was good, bad, God, crazy, and finally; a vessel for the Leviathans. Always, but not anymore. Now it was just a trench coat. A trench coat folded up in the bottom of his duffle bag, buried underneath everything else. He'd never throw it away, he knew that. He just couldn't, he'd never be able to get rid of it because that would mean entirely letting go. And that was something he would never be able to do.

Castiel had messed up, fact, but it happened sometimes. He'd really screwed up, screwed up more than Dean had ever felt possible, but that didn't mean he wasn't damn cut up about that stupid bastard's death. They'd been friends for a little over two years, they'd been through so much together. Castiel had saved him and his brother, disobeyed and helped to save the world. Then he'd started a civil war to protect them, and Earth and the freedom of humans and angels alike. He'd sacrificed so much for them, for _him._ Yet, it wasn't just that. They really had bonded, 'profoundly' apparently. In Castiel he'd found something he hadn't had in ages. A best friend. Someone else to rely on other than Sam and Bobby. Screw it, he wasn't even just his best friend. He'd come to see him as a brother. He loved him just like he loved Sam. He'd taught him how to be free, the difference between right and wrong and the angel had blindly followed him. Maybe…Maybe that was why. Maybe that was why Castiel had done what he had, opening purgatory and consuming the souls. If he hadn't been on his case all of the time, way back when, asking him to help them save the world and all that, then he may not have disobeyed. Wouldn't have fallen. Would've stayed an obedient dick and all the shit that would have become the blue eyed angel's problem in the future, would've just been things that he wouldn't have to worry about. It all would've been meaningless, because he would've just stayed servile and a stranger to freedom.

Basically, Sam wasn't the only brother he'd failed. He should've tried harder, to get Castiel to stop initially. Or he should've found a way to stop him, if not for the sake of the world then for the sake of the angel himself. In order stop him from becoming something terrible, in order to save him from himself. Cas wasn't the only one guilty of screwing up, he was too. He'd screwed up and inadvertently let him down. It seemed like that was what he was best at; screwing up, not realising things soon enough, not being able to help people and not being able to save them. Sure, people he didn't know? He managed. Those close to him? He just seemed to fail them all in some way or another, to lose them all. He'd lost his best friend, his wing man, the angel on his shoulder and if things went real bad- he could potentially lose Sammy as well. He was just internally reeling from it all right now, and, of course, the Leviathans. The creatures they knew shit all about, let alone how to stop them. It was all too much at the moment; Cas, Sam, the Leviathans. He wanted to fall apart so bad, to tell them all that he wasn't 'fine', that he'd never be 'fine' but he couldn't. Ever. It was against his nature. He had to lie and claim he was fine, because it was so much easier than admitting the truth. He had to lie and he had to carry on, because it was all he knew. Because it was so much easier than admitting that he was close to falling apart.


End file.
